Post by Ruadhan Connell on Jun 14, 2015 17:06:21 GMT -5
“Damned bloody wasps.”
The man was griping as he made his way out of the apiary field with a handful of others. All had donned typical beekeeping gear of thick coats and trousers. In the height of August, it made the outfits almost unbearably hot, but Ruadhan would rather deal with the heat than the damned, cursed stings of his most hated enemy. In average year, it was not uncommon for a colony of wasps to establish themselves near the apiaries in hopes of stealing precious honey from the hives. This year, however, they came out in force.
Dealing with wasps was always challenging, having to use a careful mixture of fire and brute force. Ruadhan did not want the smoke to confuse and agitate the hardworking drones from their much needed work. But, the job of eliminating three separate wasps nest was an exercise in tedium with a sprinkle of danger. The wasps, naturally, were not thrilled at being relocated. Ruadhan was not surprised to see that a few had managed to sting him through his gloved.
“Gods above curse them all,” he continued to mutter, ripping off his masked helmet and yanking off his gloves. Ruadhan’s face was drench with sweat and just as red, a sure sign that he had been on the verge of heat exhaustion. Fortunately, the task was complete and he could take a very well deserved dip in the spring and a nice dinner. Granted, he could have just sent the servants and men to do the job, but just as Regan took it upon herself to tend to the apiaries, Ruadhan took it upon himself to defend them. Indeed, it had Regan herself that warned him how upset the bees had been lately, … and it was for good reason.
With a breath of relief, he entered the cooler halls of the family keep but the respite was short lived. “Regan!” He called out, wanting to tell her the results but he was interrupted by the arrival of a courier with what appeared to be a very important message. “What’s this?” He blinked at the man, but the courier had nothing to say outside of passing a sealed message along to him. With a frown, Ruadhan broke the seal and read the letter.
“Doesn’t Vulcanis have enough fuckin’ wasps?” He spat out to no one in particular.
Damn it. Just damn it.
Regan Connell
The man was griping as he made his way out of the apiary field with a handful of others. All had donned typical beekeeping gear of thick coats and trousers. In the height of August, it made the outfits almost unbearably hot, but Ruadhan would rather deal with the heat than the damned, cursed stings of his most hated enemy. In average year, it was not uncommon for a colony of wasps to establish themselves near the apiaries in hopes of stealing precious honey from the hives. This year, however, they came out in force.
Dealing with wasps was always challenging, having to use a careful mixture of fire and brute force. Ruadhan did not want the smoke to confuse and agitate the hardworking drones from their much needed work. But, the job of eliminating three separate wasps nest was an exercise in tedium with a sprinkle of danger. The wasps, naturally, were not thrilled at being relocated. Ruadhan was not surprised to see that a few had managed to sting him through his gloved.
“Gods above curse them all,” he continued to mutter, ripping off his masked helmet and yanking off his gloves. Ruadhan’s face was drench with sweat and just as red, a sure sign that he had been on the verge of heat exhaustion. Fortunately, the task was complete and he could take a very well deserved dip in the spring and a nice dinner. Granted, he could have just sent the servants and men to do the job, but just as Regan took it upon herself to tend to the apiaries, Ruadhan took it upon himself to defend them. Indeed, it had Regan herself that warned him how upset the bees had been lately, … and it was for good reason.
With a breath of relief, he entered the cooler halls of the family keep but the respite was short lived. “Regan!” He called out, wanting to tell her the results but he was interrupted by the arrival of a courier with what appeared to be a very important message. “What’s this?” He blinked at the man, but the courier had nothing to say outside of passing a sealed message along to him. With a frown, Ruadhan broke the seal and read the letter.
“Doesn’t Vulcanis have enough fuckin’ wasps?” He spat out to no one in particular.
Damn it. Just damn it.
Regan Connell